A Misty Mystery: The Red Rock Robbery
by corkybookworm1
Summary: Sequel to A Misty Mystery. The Hardys and their good friend Chet Morton have decided that a guy's trip is long overdue, so they fly out to Colorado to bask in the beauty of the mountains. Meanwhile, the Drew sisters have been asked to help unravel a string of museum robberies, but is there something far more dangerous afoot and can the girls get to the bottom of it in time?
1. Prologue

**This story is being written by myself as well as Sassyk100 for those of you who know her. We can only post it on one profile, and after discussing it we chose to do so on mine. Feel free to send either of us a message if you wish to. We'll both see any reviews that you readers are gracious enough to leave. Now, because there are two of us writing this story, we have to pass the information back and forth and back and forth several times until we get the result that we want. Consequentally, it takes a little longer for us to get things done and posting may not be as speedy as it would be if just one of us was writing it. (And if you've read anything else by me, you know I'm not so great at keeping a wonderful pace anyway ;-D) That being said, we are going to do our best to keep this rolling. **

**This is the intro to our story. We've combed through it and finally settled on the result below. We've both worked very hard on it and hope that you'll enjoy this. Please, if you read, leave a review. It means the world to us when you leave reviews. Good and Bad alike. Tell us what you like, what you don't like, what you predict, any errors you see, anything on your mind. Thankyou for reading and THANKYOU for reviewing!**

**This IS a sequel to my story A Misty Mystery. Therefore, Misty WILL be a character! (We make brilliant deductions, don't we!) If you have not read my story, there may be some confusion as to who Misty is. Misty is Nancy's sister. If you want more details, read AMM. However, I must say that the events of the intro happen before AMM. **

**And now...without further ado, I present: **

**A Misty Mystery: The Red Rock Robbery **

**PROLOGUE **

A shrill shriek slipped un-beckoned from the deepest recesses of her being. Her scream rang out across the lifeless night sky, slicing through the stars like a dagger.

"No!" Frank Hardy yelled out. Desperation and astonished disbelief shone in his dark eyes. He had one hand on the still upright railing as he leaned out into the emptiness. His other stretched vainly in the direction of her falling form. She had just been within reach! He fumed. Instantly, his mind kicked into high gear. He ran inside, past his startled brother, and out of the room. Sprinting for the stairs at the end of the hall, the eighteen-year old boy burst through the stairwell door.

A bewildered Joe Hardy noted his older brother's urgency and quickly investigated the outdoor scene. It didn't take him long to connect his friend's shriek of fear, his brother's rushed departure, and the malformed balcony rail. Less than a second after Frank had, he ran out of the still open doorway to the hotel room. He headed straight for the elevator, knowing Frank had gone for the stairs.

Panting, Frank took the stairs four and five at a time. He flew down, jumping and sliding all of the way. Please be alright, he kept repeating in his mind, Please just be alright. He could only hope and pray that she was still alive. But he knew even that was unlikely.

Seventeen-year old Joe jammed his thumb into the down button again and again. "Come on. Come on," he said in a low voice, running his fingers through his thick, blonde hair in frustration. He paced back and forth in front of the elevator, strongly aware that every fraction of a second that indifferently ticked by could be her last. "This is taking too long!" he pounded his fists into the elevator doors. Quickly, he turned around and darted for the nearest set of stairs. "Hang on, Nancy, we're coming," he whispered.

To eighteen-year-old Nancy Drew, the fall from the seventh story balcony seemed endless. It seemed unreal. Even the scream that had involuntarily escaped her slightly parted lips sounded wrong to her. In a daze, she looked down toward her feet. Her gaze skimmed past the balcony that was rapidly reducing in size, or so it seemed, and to the hopelessly dark, night sky beyond. She took a long and thoughtful look at all the dazzling stars that it contained. The sky was unbelievably expansive. It never ended, and it seemed like she was just now realizing that in its entirety. Suddenly, she felt so small and helpless. How could this have happened? It looks like curiosity will finally kill the cat, she thought glumly. After what seemed like eternity of falling, she glanced up. She saw the ground hastening to meet her at a scary pace. Instinctively, the girl gasped in fright, placing her arms protectively over her face in preparation for the inevitable impact. She squeezed her blue eyes tightly shut, cutting off the rest of her startled tears, and plunged into the chilly hotel pool headfirst.

* * *

It only took Frank thirty-five seconds to reach the ground floor of the hotel, but he was still nineteen seconds too late. Heart pounding and breath short, he flew out of the stairwell, across the hotel, and out to where he knew the pool was without stopping. Stumbling wildly, he stripped his socks and shoes as he ran. He reached the edge of the deep-end of the pool, instantly diving into the freezing water.

Joe zipped through the lobby nearly twelve seconds after his brother. He reached the outside doors that led to the twenty-five foot pool. Joe ran to where Frank had been standing. Immediately after spotting his brother in the water, he turned around and ran for the front desk.

"What's all that racket? What on earth is going on?" the man at the desk was just beginning to investigate the loud splash that he had heard and the multiple slammings of the stairwell door. Joe nearly ran right into the angry man as he shot around another corner.

"Call an ambulance!" Joe yelled, "Someone fell into the pool from a balcony! Hurry!"

"Fell into the pool?" the man's face turned pale, "Oh my, are they going to press charges?"

Joe almost choked the man right then and there, "She might not be alive to if you don't call 911 right now! But you can believe I will!"

"Right then, let's get the phone," the man quickly returned to his desk to make the call.

Meanwhile, Nancy's fall in the air had taken almost seven seconds. She had hit the pool and traveled another fifteen feet in less than four seconds before slowing down. It had taken her another five seconds to cover the last ten feet of water. She reached the bottom, bumping her head just hard enough to knock her out cold. She had been lying at the bottom of the pool for twenty-three seconds when Frank had jumped in after her.

"Ghuh!" Frank gasped for much-needed air as he finally broke the surface of the water with Nancy in his arms. Swiftly, he swam to the edge using his one free arm. He pulled her up and onto the edge of the pool before heaving himself up after her. She didn't move.

"Nancy!" he shook her shoulders, "Nancy! Can you hear me?" He frantically searched for her pulse. Her once pink lips were slightly tinted blue from the cold water and from the lack of oxygen. He could easily remember her smiling at him, laughing at something or frowning in concentration, hunting down another clue. But now, they looked so lifeless and indifferent. In the darkness, her normally reddish-blonde hair appeared a rusted-brown, almost black, as a result of being wet. He gently pushed it back from her pale face. It almost looked as blue as her lips in the moonlight, it was so pale. It broke his heart to see her like this. She just couldn't be dead! There it was, a pulse…beating slowly, but beating nonetheless. He pushed repeatedly against her chest, patiently waiting to see if she would come to. "Come on, Nancy," he whispered, "I know you're strong."

Suddenly, the girl started coughing harshly. She turned on her side, sputtering and gasping for air. Although she had been fortunate enough to take in a deep breath before hitting the pool, when she had hit her head at the bottom she had swallowed a little water.

Frank choked on a dubious half-laugh and cried as he hugged his friend, "I thought you'd finally worn out your nine lives!" She coughed and coughed until she could finally take a slow, deep breath.

"No, not yet," she smiled weakly; her voice was hoarse and her teeth chattered loudly. They both knew that that was her way of saying thankyou.

"You lucky dog!" Joe smiled as he ran up to them, relief washing over him like a wave in the ocean, "Are you alright? We've called an ambulance; they should be here shortly."

"I think I'm alright," she looked up at Joe. The girl shivered violently in the chilly night breeze, "But I don't think I'd like to do it again anytime soon." Nancy and Joe laughed tightly; but Frank only clenched his teeth together, unable to make so light of such an incident.

Frank did his best to suppress his own shivering, but was unable to shake the sensation entirely. "Come on," he said, standing, "Let's get something dry on."

After the medics approved Nancy's condition and the boys assured the worried manager that they wouldn't press charges, the three friends made their way back to the boys' room. Frank and Joe gathered their things so that they could check into a new room, for the police would quarter off the one they had been in. The manager had graciously granted them another room to stay in, free of charge. The boys unpacked in their new room and then went to join Nancy down the hall in her room, three stories below the room that the boys had previously been staying in.

"Come on in," Nancy answered the knock on her door, knowing that it would be the Hardys. She had changed out of her wet blue jeans and purple tee-shirt and into gray sweatpants and a dark green sweater. She held a white hotel towel to her reddish-blonde hair, doing her best to keep it from dripping everywhere.

"So," Frank crossed his arms after closing the door, "What happened?"

"I wouldn't mind knowing how you fell from a seven story balcony either," Joe plopped down onto a bed.

Nancy sighed, placing herself on the bed opposite him. She put the towel into her lap, fidgeting with one of the corners. Her fingers still shivered slightly, though no longer solely from the cold. Whether she was willing to admit it aloud or not, the night's events had shaken her to the core. "Boy, just wait 'til Dad hears about this," she mumbled, after taking a shaky breath, "I'll never hear the last of it."

"Nancy," Joe sat up, "Tell us what happened."

Nancy sighed, "I was standing out on the balcony, watching the sun as it set. Well, I heard something that sounded oddly familiar—it was almost like a silent, pulsating sound that had a heart and will of it's own; it was a low, nearly inaudible, yet rhythmic and persistent tone that the wind just happened to carry my way—and so naturally I turned toward the noise." She looked up at her friends. Her tone darkened and her eyes glazed over, lost in the still-fresh memory, "It was a bomb on the side of the building. I didn't know how big or small of an explosion it would cause, but I did know that there was very little time left before it detonated. So, I climbed over the rail to diffuse it." She shrugged, "I guess the rail couldn't hold my weight for that long."

"You guess the rail…" Frank trailed off, anger rising inside him, "Nancy I walked into my room and looked out the open door and onto the terrace only to see you hanging at the end of a broken rail just before you plunged to your death! I thought I'd never see you again! How could you be so careless? Nancy, what would I have said to your family? I thought we had lost you, Nancy!"

Nancy rose and stepped toward him. Something inside her snapped like a thin twig, "And you think I should have just let the bomb go off?" She stood in front of him, poking her finger into his chest. She trembled, now a result of the anger that flushed her cheeks and hardened the already natural intenseness of her blue eyes, "You think I enjoyed the thrill of falling into the depths of the pool that I had no idea was even there! I thought I was going to die! You think I did it on purpose just to make sure that you had to tell my father what happened to me! You think I was smiling all the way down, so pleased that I had accomplished—"

"Enough!" Joe stepped in between them, "Now, this was nobody's fault. Nancy you were reckless— "

Frank smirked at her, "Thankyou."

Nancy opened her mouth to protest, but Joe cut in unsympathetically. "But," he glared at Frank, "you may have saved many lives, Nancy." He turned back to her, "It was brave, but foolish. Now what are we going to achieve by arguing. Frank, you should be thankful that she's still alive. Nancy, don't forget he's the reason you made it out of that pool in the first place." Joe pointed at his brother while staring at Nancy with a scolding look that a father would give his child. Looking back and forth between both of them he continued, "Why don't we channel all of this energy toward something useful; for instance, finding out who planted that bomb."

Frank refused to look at either Nancy or Joe; but he knew that his brother was right. Nancy glared at the floor, her arms crossed. She didn't understand why Frank had to jump down her throat like that. He had never been so harsh with her. It especially hurt her because she had never before been the source of his anger. She didn't like it. He had never glared at her like he just did, and she felt terrible for making him feel the way that she knew he must. It wounded her that he could be so infuriated with her, so disappointed and disgusted with her. She strained to keep tears from falling down her cheeks, but one slipped down nonetheless. Joe stood tentatively between the two, waiting to see what would come next. After a tense silence, Frank spoke to Nancy.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "I was just…I was just worried about you. It wasn't your fault."

"I should have gone to get you and Joe," she admitted, "instead of just doing it myself. That way one of you guys would have been there when the rail broke. I could have avoided all of this."

Frank shook his head, "If you had done that, who knows how much damage that bomb could have done. You wouldn't have had time to get us and diffuse it. You did the right thing."

"Let's not blame each other or ourselves," Joe said, "It was an accident. What's happened has happened. We can't change it now. All we can do is learn from it and move on. Now, who would have planted that bomb and why?"


	2. Chapter 1

**Sassyk and I would like to thank you all for your patience. We want to apologize for the long wait. It's been very chaotic for both of us. I've been in the transition to college while sassyk has transitioned from one school to another, so…But alas, we are finally settling in and we are able to work much more efficiently now for our own reasons. Hopefully, we'll be able to get the ball a rollin' on this story! Enjoy and PLEASE review!**

**CHAPTER ONE**

Joe Hardy bent over, resting his hands on his knees. He smiled triumphantly at his brother, Frank Hardy, who was mirroring his position. Both boys heaved in gulps of sweet air. The late afternoon sun shone on the still lake that lay behind the tree line on Joe's left. The summer heat had been muted for the day by the playful, cool breeze.

"I demand a rematch," Frank huffed between gasps.

Joe shook his head, "No, no, no. That was fair and square and you know it."

In the distance, the brothers heard a familiar voice call out, "Hey! You guys can't do that!" The somewhat-chubby Chet Morton slowly jogged toward the detective brothers, "That…that's not fair!" Frank and Joe fell gratefully into the soft grass and laughed as they waited for their chum to catch up to them. Finally, he did. "You know I can't run as fast as you guys," the blonde boy sputtered, collapsing onto on the ground alongside his pals.

"You should lay off Aunt Gertrude's apple pie, Chet," Joe joked, patting the chubby boy's stomach.

"Oh come off it!" the boy scowled.

"You're just mad because I won the race," Joe smiled again. They boys had been picnicking beside the lake when the Hardys had proposed a race. Chet, good-natured as he was, had grudgingly gone along with the plan.

"Say, what time is it anyway?" asked Chet.

Frank looked at his watch, "It's almost two. Why do you ask?"

Their friend shrugged, "I was just wondering." A long silence enveloped the trio as they lay still, absorbing the sun's warmth.

"Ahhh," Joe sighed, perfectly contented, "Man, wouldn't it be nice if we could spend more time like this?" The others agreed.

"You're right. We haven't taken a trip together in quite a while," Chet sat up on one elbow, "Remember when we used to go camping, just the three of us?"

"Yeah," Joe smiled, "Many great memories…"

Frank chuckled to himself. Joe looked down at him, "What's so funny?" Frank only sat up and started to laugh harder. Joe and Chet righted themselves, staring at him in confusion.

"What?" asked Chet.

Frank started, "Do you remember when we had a huge group and we went into the woods beside Chet's farm?"

This time it was Joe whose face brightened into an irrepressible grin, "You mean, when Iola wanted us all to go to that specific spot?"

"Wait," Chet still looked confused, "What time was this?"

Frank burst into more giggles, "You've got to remember, Chet!" But the blonde boy just shook his head.

"Joe," the older Hardy wiped tears from his eyes, "I don't think I can get through the story. You'd better tell it."

Joe took on a serious tone, but the light in his eyes still shone brightly, "It was me and Frank, you and your sister, Callie and her cousin—I think her name's Crystal—Tony, Biff, and Phil and his girl."

Chet's eyes lit up slightly, "I think I do remember this…but continue."

"Well, the girl that Phil brought insisted on bringing her dog. It was some huge white, long-haired thing. I don't remember what it was really, but it was as tall as a pony! That dog stood as tall as my waist, no joke. She said that she never left him anyw—"

"Oh!" Chet exclaimed, "I do recall this story! How could I have forgotten?" Frank continued to laugh, and now all three boys were laughing. Chet took up the story, "It rained cats and dogs, so we couldn't find Iola's _perfect_ spot. She was so frustrated!"

"And then we lost someone's sleeping bag and our bag of food," Frank added, "We had to send Biff and Callie back to try to find it."

"I went with them too," Joe said, "I remember because Biff fell in the mud and his expression was unforgettable. He was so dumbfounded!"

"Oh, I wished we could have seen that," Chet howled, "When they finally found us again, they'd had no luck at all."

Joe continued, "Then we decided to just camp where we were. We didn't want to lose anything else. We were all tired and wet and cross by that point. So, everyone helped set up camp. We pitched the girls' tent and set up the overhead tarp, hoping that there would be some relief from the rain by morning. Then we all went to sleep."

"And the dog slept in the tent," Frank smiled, "Melanie—that was her name, I remember now—wouldn't hear of it any other way. The guys all settled outside the tent somewhere."

"Who went without a sleeping bag? Do you remember?" asked Joe.

"It was me!" Chet's hand shot up, "I was miserable all night for it too." He scowled at the memory.

"In the morning, one of the girls snuck out of the tent," Joe said, "I'm pretty sure it was Callie's cousin. When she came out, so did that dog."

"_And_ she'd left the flap open when she walked off," Frank noted.

"You slept right through it, Chet," Joe shook his head, "Oh you missed it all. When Crystal came back, the dog followed her back into the tent."

"But he'd rolled around while he was outside," Frank laughed again, "He jumped on all of the girls waking them up and covering them in mud!"

Chet beamed, "The noise woke me up. I'll never forget Callie's shriek, or Iola's face as they all filed out faster than lightning!"

"Ooh," Frank smiled, "What about the time that Chet thought he heard a bear outside our tent?"

"Which time?" Joe teased. Chet crossed his arms and stuck his tongue out at him.

"And then," Frank continued, still laughing, "and then he threw a jar of honey outside."

Joe's eyes lit up, "Oh yeah! We told him not to bring food into the tent and he thought that if he gave up the honey that the bear would take it and run."

"I wasn't thinking rationally!" Chet protested, "I thought there was a bear after my snack!"

"Chet, it was a sealed container," Frank said, "It had never even been opened."

"Why would a bear come for food that it couldn't smell?" Joe smiled, "Frank and I had sealed the rest of the food outside."

"I was half-awake, you guys!" Chet grumbled.

The Hardys chuckled at their indignant friend. "Good thing Dad dodged the jar," Joe stood up, "That would have left a nasty bruise."

"Say!" Frank said, as he and Chet joined Joe, "Let's go on another camping trip. Joe and I don't have any plans for next week. What about you, Chet?"

"Boy, that sounds fantastic!" Chet answered, "I'll talk to my parents and call you tonight."

"If everything goes accordingly, we can leave in the morning," Joe clasped his hands together, "Let's go pack!"

The boys gathered their picnic things and packed them into Chet's yellow jalopy. That car was Chet's pride and joy. He cared for it as a father would a son. Chet dropped the brothers off at their house before heading home to his family's farm. He parked in the long, dusty driveway and raced into the house to talk with his parents.

"Mom! Dad!" Chet yelled from the laundry room.

"I'm in the kitchen, Sweetheart," Chet heard his mother call.

"Mom, is Dad home?" he asked, turning into the kitchen and kissing his mother's cheek.

"No, Dear, he's running some errands for me. How was your picnic with the Hardys?"

"Great," Chet looked at his mother. She was dicing celery, carrots, and onions. "What are you cooking, Mom?"

"Vegetable soup."

Chet watched his mother in silence, internally debating on whether or not he should wait for his father to come home. He was about to go to his room when she spoke up, "Chet, what do you want?"

"Frank and Joe were talking about going camping and they invited me along," he breathed out, and what a relief it was. His face lit up as he continued, "It would be just the three of us, just like we used to do. Can I go?"

Mrs. Morton smiled at her son. She had known that he'd had something that he couldn't wait to share. All he'd needed was just a little invitation. She stopped chopping and turned to him, "I don't see why you shouldn't be able to go. You'll have to ask your sister if she's willing to pull your share of the chores, though. And I'll talk to your father."

"Gee, thanks Mom!" Chet kissed her again before running to the stairs.

"When are you planning on leaving?" Mrs. Morton called after him.

"Tomorrow if it's alright with the Hardys," he called down, already planning what to bring and what to leave.

* * *

"Camping?" Fenton Hardy repeated, his dark eyebrows rose in surprise. That hadn't been what he'd expected his sons to spend their vacation doing, but he certainly had nothing against it. In fact, he thought it a wonderful idea, "That could be arranged."

"Oh, thanks, Dad!" the two brothers chorused in unison. The started to make their way out of their father's study, but Fenton stopped them.

"Where were you planning on going?" he asked.

"…to pack?" Joe's answer was unsure. He looked to Frank, wondering if they'd missed something.

Fenton laughed merrily, "I mean for your trip."

"Oh!" relief flooded the younger boy's face.

Frank suppressed a smile, but it soon faded as he realized that they hadn't even thought of where they would camp. "We didn't really think about it," he said, shrugging, "but there are many places that we've been before."

Joe nodded his head in agreement, "We can just pick one and go."

Fenton's eyes twinkled with a mischievous light, "What would you think about camping someplace that you haven't before?"


	3. Chapter 2

**So sorry for the long wait. We had a bit of minor writer's block, but thanks to Alicia Hardy, we've gotten things straightened out and hope to be continuing very soon. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW.**

**Oh, yes, and in case you haven't read A Misty Mystery, Sergeant Bithers is a character that I made up. He works at the RH Police Department and at this point has been dating Misty for about a year. I'm hoping to expand on his character in this story and in future stories as he played a pretty minor role in AMM.**

**CHAPTER TWO**

"I can't believe I'm putting this case into the hands of two teenage girls," Detective Waibree muttered, shaking his head disapprovingly. He paced back and forth in his small office, waiting for the two girls to arrive. If he could have his way, he would never have allowed this to happen. It was foolish. It was preposterous!

"We can leave if you'd like," an annoyed voice made the detective spin sharply around. He faced them now, speechless.

"No! Uh…" he became alarmed at the thought of them leaving. His boss would kill him and _then_ fire him if he let them go. He had been insistent and very clear about wanting these girls on the case. "Please, sit down," he stammered.

They both had reddish-blonde hair and were the same height. Although he'd been told that one was about three years younger than the other, they looked like twins to him. They were both dressed in jeans and t-shirts. The girl on the right had intense blue eyes, and her hair gracefully fell down to her sholders. The girl on his left wore a jacket tied around her waist, and her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. She rolled her green eyes and plopped down, her arms crossed. Her sister looked less annoyed as she settled herself into one of the seats facing his desk.

He cleared his throat, taking his own seat, "Um, the Drew sisters?"

* * *

"Ahh," Frank released a long, satisfying sigh, allowing the fresh mountain air to encompass and calm him.

"Isn't that gorgeous?" Chet whispered, looking out across the vast view before them.

Joe smiled heartily, "It sure is. Dad's idea was marvelous." The three boys had been hiking all day up the mountainside. They'd taken it slow for Chet, but Chet kept up pretty well anyway. He was just as excited about their trip to the Rockies as the Hardys were. They had flown in a few nights ago and were enjoying the scenery quite well.

"I wonder what brought on the thought in the first place," Chet said as he sat on a rock, resting.

Frank finally opened his eyes, smiling, "I think he said that he'd picked it up from a brochure that he'd come across. He was going to suggest a family trip, but something came up at work and Mom wasn't feeling up to it this time around anyway."

"Well, I'm sure glad that we got have a guys trip. We haven't had time like this in years," Chet looked out at the mountains surrounding them. They had reached a clearing at the edge of a cliff that looked out for miles across the patches of mountain that they would make their home for the next week.

* * *

"McGinnis here," the River Heights Chief of Police answered his phone, "What do you need?" He listened, nodding as the man on the other line spoke, "Okay…yeah…uh huh…" McGinnis rubbed his whiskery chin. "Hmm, yeah, that does present a problem," he chuckled slightly, but not so loud that the other man could hear, "Yes, of course, I'll send one of my best men...Alright, he should be there in about two hours…Mmhmm, goodbye." He hung up the phone, and swiveled around in his chair, chuckling.

"Cathy," McGinnis called to his secretary as he reached the door.

"Yes, sir?" the young blonde asked brightly.

"Would you track an officer down for me? Tell him to clean up nice and to pack for about a week."

* * *

"Bithers! My office!" Chief Hansam's voice reverberated throughout the station. The twenty-year-old officer, Sergeant Bob Bithers, wore a crisp River Heights uniform, and his dark brown hair was smoothed back out of his face. His tan hat was tucked under his arm. It felt unusual to him because he never had his hat with him. His dark brown eyes glistened with anticipation, and a large smile revealed perfect, white teeth that contrasted sharply against his sun-browned skin. This was his first big assignment. Chicago.

As soon as he'd walked through the doors, he'd given his name to the officer at the front desk, who had promptly sent a message to Hansam's secretary. The woman had called her boss, letting him know that Bithers had arrived. She had hoped that the news would put him in a better mood, but he had been grouchy all day. This didn't dampen Bithers' mood, though. The young sergeant quickly met the chief in his office, a giddy bounce in his step. "Yes sir?" he asked, still smiling broadly.

"Wipe that gleeful look off your face," Hansam growled, "You're a United States police officer. Shut the door."

"Yes sir," Bithers swiftly closed the office door.

"Have a seat," he said in a slightly softer tone, motioning toward one of the chairs that sat in front of his large, oak desk. Bithers sat, eagerness radiating around him despite his meager efforts to contain it.

"Do you know why you're here?" Hansam asked, rubbing his temples.

Confusion spread over the young man's face as he replied, "I was under the impression that _you_ were going to tell _me_, sir."

Hansam sighed, "There's a crime prevention conference in Denver every year. We make it a point to attend, as there is usually much to learn. The conference usually has good speakers and new methods for us to use and explore."

Bithers tried not to show his disappointment, but he had been expecting an assignment of more importance than a petty conference. He kept up his smile though, he would do what he could to help and when they needed a man again, perhaps they would remember him.

"I lost an officer today," the chief paused, a strange look crossing over his face.

"I'm so sorry," Bithers replied, knowing that a man down was the worst part of the job, "I'm sure he died valiantly."

"He didn't die," Hansam growled fiercely, slamming his fists on his desk, "He quit! The traitor."

Bithers was taken aback by the sudden outburst, but he easily controlled his reaction. He wondered what the officer had done to deserve the wrath of Hansam and what he had done to deserve the title of traitor.

"He refused to accept the consequences of his foolish actions and then he quit before I could fire the rat!" Hansam went on, "Men like him deserve to—" The chief stopped abruptly, remembering that he still had company. He cleared his throat and folded his hands, placing them calmly in the center of his desk.

"I have no men to spare to attend this conference, as they are all on the verge of solving a most important case in the city. You are to take the place of Officer Daniels at the conference. I will make the necessary arrangements. I called McGinnis and he assured me that he would send his best. I expect you to behave yourself as an officer should and to keep an open mind. I want you to learn while you're at this conference and take notes. You will be teaching a seminar here in Chicago upon your return to explain what you have learned. You will be attending the conference with another of my officers, who was originally going to attend with Daniels. You two will leave first thing in the morning to catch your plane. You will meet Officer Jackson at the airport.

"Here is your ticket and your itinerary," the man pushed a folder toward Bithers, "Jackson had everything else that you need. Do you understand?"

Bithers nodded, "Yes sir."

"Then off with you," Hansam waved him out, "Be at the airport early."

"Yes sir," Bithers left the office, returning to his car to search out a hotel for the night.


	4. Chapter 3

**We are SO sorry that it has taken this long to post this chapter, but on the up side, it is five pages long. We hope you enjoy, please leave a review, and we'll do our best to get the next chapter up sooner than we did this one. Don't go anywhere, it's just getting started! ~Sassy and Corky **

**I'm SO sorry that I forgot to put in the line breaks! My bad, guys...XD**

**CHAPTER THREE**

The soft knock on Nancy's door caused her to look up. She saw Misty bashfully poke her head inside the room, her hair cascading into her face as she glanced at her feet. Nancy closed the nightstand drawer and straightened up, turning to face Misty, "Was there something that you needed?"

The younger girl hesitated before taking a step further into the room. Her fingers lingered lightly for a moment on the golden doorknob behind her and then swung back to her side. She stood at the foot of the bed, still not speaking. Nancy looked at her curiously. "Is everything okay?" she asked, studying her sister more closely.

Glancing down at her feet, Misty tried to hide the blush that was creeping into her cheeks. In a soft voice she spoke up, "Can I sleep with you tonight? I really don't want to be alone."

"Of course," Nancy smiled, tilting her head toward the bed. "Come help me," she said, waving Misty over.

Misty stood on one side of the large bed while Nancy stood on the other. Together the sisters pulled down the covers and slipped between the sheets, ready to finally rest for the night. They were staying in a small hotel that was pretty fancy despite its size, compliments of Dell Richardson, who had made the reservation for the suit.

As Misty reached for her book that she'd left in the room earlier, Nancy eyed her curiously. "So, what was with you today? Something on your mind?"

"What do you mean?" Misty innocently looked up from the book.

"You know what I mean," Nancy said, "Why were you in such a mood, especially at Waibree's office?" She smiled, "I'll admit, he deserved it, and the look on his face was priceless when you mentioned leaving. But even after we left, you still seemed upset." Nancy shook her finger at Misty, "And don't tell me it was just because of Waibree."

Misty made a face, "His whole attitude irked me. He needed a good fright." She sighed, "I don't know. I just felt…sassy today."

"I'll say," Nancy laughed, "You scared the poor man to death. Don't give me that 'I don't know' card either. I know you better than that, so what's up?"

Misty fidgeted with the corner of her book, not wanting to say anything. She couldn't look at Nancy and that was the dead giveaway. Nancy knew something was wrong now, no more guesses. She gently took the book from the girl that sat beside her, laying it on the nightstand to her right. She cupped Misty's chin in her hand and turned it so that she could peer into her sister's green eyes.

"Don't lie to me, Misty," Nancy whispered, "If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay, but don't lie to me."

Misty swallowed hard. She nodded, looking down again as Nancy released her hold. She took a deep breath, "It's Bithers…"

Confusion spread over Nancy face, "What about him?"

Misty shrugged, "I don't know!" She looked at Nancy, and a flicker of hurt passed through her glazed expression, "It's probably stupid, but it seems like he's been ignoring me for the last few days. I don't know what's wrong. He's not answering my calls or responding to my messages and texts. It's like he's completely disappeared. I just…I…"

Nancy hugged her sister, "He's probably just busy, that's all. Remember, McGinnis sent him to Chicago a few days ago to help there. Dad told me the other day that there was a pretty big case going on and Chief Hansam was running low on men. Bithers is working on his first big case! You should be excited for him."

"I am…I think," Misty said, "I mean, I know he's probably busy, but it's been three days." She looked at Nancy, worry in her eyes, "What if something happened to him?"

Nancy shook her head, "No, he's fine. Don't borrow trouble cause it's not worth it." She turned out her light and laid down facing Misty, "I don't think he's intentionally ignoring you, and I don't think he's hurt. I think he's just caught up in the excitement of the case, and he's probably puzzling over evidence right now, wishing you were at his side to tell him the answers."

Misty smiled, still not entirely convinced, but she lay down, turning out her light too. She had a weird feeling in her gut about the whole thing, but she didn't say anything and instead let sleep overtake her.

* * *

Rain pelted the ground mercilessly, drowning everything beneath the dark, stormy sky. A brilliant streak of lightning turned everything within sight a ghostly white, and before it even had the chance to fade, a loud crack of thunder shook the air, slowly dissipating into a long, low rumble.

Frank Hardy stumbled into the tent that Chet had put up for the trio earlier. Rain dripped into his eyes from his hair. He was soaked.

Joe's blue eyes lit up with amusement as a very wet Chet bolted into the tent after the older Hardy, nearly knocking him over, "A little damp out there?"

Frank glared at his dry brother, "You think?" He rolled his eyes while scooting to the back of the tent to make more room for Chet.

"Just sayin," Joe smiled, throwing his hands up in a shrug of defeat, "Now hurry up and change. You're dripping all over the place, and I don't want to sleep in a wet bed."

Frank grumbled, but quickly changed into his dry clothes and slipped beneath a blanket to bring warmth back into his body. Chet only smiled, shaking his head at the brothers before donning his dry pajamas. The three settled in for the night, hoping that the storm would be merciful on their frail tent.

* * *

Misty rested her head on the arm of the dark brown sofa in the living room of the suite. With her legs propped against the back of the couch at a sharp angle, the girl almost looked bent in half. She concentrated on licking the chocolate from her fingers as Nancy paced back and forth in front of the coffee table that stood between the girls. The plate on the table held only crumbs of what had been Misty's morning snack. Nancy had one hand on her hip and the other waving arbitrarily in the air as she thought aloud.

"That was good cake," Misty said, watching for Nancy's reaction. The older Drew kept pacing and mumbling to herself. "I like a little chocolate in the morning to wake me up," she said a little too loudly, still watching her sister. "Nancy," Misty tried to get her sister's attention, "Yoo-hoo!" She swung her feet around so that she was sitting on the couch properly. "Nancy!" she tried again, staring directly at her now.

"Huh?" Nancy turned to face Misty, "Did you say something?"

"You haven't eaten anything at all since we got up, and you've been mumbling incoherently for the last thirty minutes," Misty gave Nancy a hard look, "Why don't you relax a little?"

"I'm sorry," Nancy threw her hands into the air, sitting on an arm of one of the three matching recliners. Her stomach growled loudly, bringing a blush to her cheeks, "I guess I am hungry."

"Let me fix you something to eat while you tell me what's on your mind," Misty stood, walking into the small kitchenette behind the couch.

"I just…" Nancy started, still trying to organize her thoughts, "I had a funny feeling about the case and I wasn't sure…I don't know. It was weird. I guess I was just trying to figure it out."

"You think the feeling means something?" Misty asked, pulling a pan down from the cabinet above the stove.

"Well, no," Nancy answered, "Not exactly."

"Then what are you trying to figure out?" Misty turned to face her sister, noting the confused look on her face, "Omelets okay for breakfast?"

Nancy nodded absentmindedly, "Yeah…"

"Nancy, are you okay?" Misty walked over to her sister, placing one hand gently on her arm.

Nancy shook her head to clear it, "Yes, I'm fine. I'm just having a hard time shaking this feeling, but I'm sure it's nothing."

Misty smiled, "Well, you know what I always say: don't borrow trouble. Besides, we just got the information for the case yesterday, and we have done absolutely no investigating yet."

"You're right," Nancy stood, shaking her head as she laughed, "Well, let me help you out with breakfast." The girls fixed their breakfast and decided to explore the town some before they had to meet with Wiabree's boss, Dell Richardson. Ultimately, Richardson had been the one responsible for hiring the girls. Although Wiabree had briefed them yesterday on the basics of the case, Richardson had insisted on giving the detailed file to the girls personally. Despite his demanding schedule, the man wanted to meet the famous Drew sisters whom he had heard so much about. After formal introductions, well wishes, and many thanks, the short meeting ended with the transition of the file into the girls' hands. Bursting at the seams with anticipation, Misty practically skipped to the car ahead of Nancy with the file in hand.

For lunch, they found a quaint little Italian restaurant called Papalenos. "Seat yourselves," the man behind the counter handed them menus, "and when you're ready to order you can come up here." The girls thanked him and settled in a corner booth in the back of the small restaurant.

"What do you want?" Nancy asked, scanning over the menu.

"What looks good?" Misty mumbled, looking at her own menu, "Ooh, you can get your own 'Big Slice' of pizza made just the way you want. We wouldn't have to split a whole pizza, and it looks big enough to be the size of two normal pieces."

"That's a good idea," Nancy nodded, "I was looking at the Alfredo anyway." After another minute of debating over final decisions, Nancy stood up, taking Misty's menu, "I'll order and get the drinks."

Misty looked out the window as she waited, watching as the people walked by. A few of them came into the restaurant, but most of them passed by. It was a little early for lunch. The girls had wanted to avoid the noon-hour rush. She jumped as her phone buzzed loudly against the wooden table.

"Nancy!" Misty lit up with excitement as her sister set down the Root Beer and Dr. Pepper, "Nancy, it's from Bithers!"

Nancy smiled, sitting down across from Misty, "See, I told you everything was okay. What's it say?"

Misty's face fell as she read the text, "I really can't talk right now, but I wanted to say that it was great to hear from you and thanks again for all the encouragement."

Nancy noticed her sister's expression, "What's wrong?" She smiled and shook Misty's arm reassuringly, "He said it was good to hear from you. I told you he wasn't ignoring your messages or your texts. He's just busy with his new case, that's all."

"Nancy," Misty said, "It doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense?" Nancy took a gulp of what she thought was the Dr. Pepper. Misty smiled at Nancy's surprised expression upon drinking her Root Beer instead. "Oops," she coughed, sliding the drink over to Misty, "That one's yours."

"I guess you're right," the younger girl sighed, setting her phone next to the windowsill.

"Right about what?" Nancy asked after swallowing a sip of the correct drink.

"Bithers," Misty said, "I guess…it's just…well, this one thing doesn't quite add up."

"What doesn't?" Nancy put her elbows on the table and then set her chin on top of the bridge she made with her intertwined fingers.

Misty reached for her phone again, rereading the text that her boyfriend had sent her. "He said 'and thanks again for all the encouragement' but this is the first time he's _thanked_ me for the encouragement…and," she cocked her head to the side, then looked up at Nancy, "I don't remember _giving_ him any encouragement besides."

"Misty," Nancy's expression was serious and slightly annoyed, "You're over-thinking this. First of all, whether you realize it or not, you're words are encouraging him. No matter what you send him, just hearing from you is an encouragement to him. Second of all, I'm willing to bet that he's stressed out to the max right now. He more than likely just hasn't realized how little he's talked to you and _thought_ that he had thanked you earlier. "

Misty opened her mouth to protest, saying that he hadn't talked to her at _all_ until just then, but Nancy held up a finger, "Up bup bup, now I want you to relax and stop worrying about him. Obviously he's not dying somewhere and obviously he's really busy." Nancy smiled as the waiter brought their food out. "So!" Nancy clapped her hands against the wooden table, "What d'ya say?"

"Alright," Misty's heart lifted and she smiled genuinely, determined to follow her sister's advice.


	5. Chapter 4

**Sassy and I have had a lot of trouble getting together for the last few months, so this chapter had been mostly ready except for a few touch ups for most of that time. But we think we finally got everything straightened out and we're sorry for the wait. There is a small possibility that we may have to twitch the end of this chapter just a tiny bit and replace it, but nothing major will change. **

**Thankyou so much for your patience and loyalty! Summer is here and we should have a whole lot more time to get together soon. Hopefully, that means we can get a few more chapters posted for this chapter and sooner rather than later. =D ****We hope you review and enjoy!**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"Carson," Hannah Gruen lightly knocked on the wooden door to Mr. Drew's study before she poked her head into the room.

"Yes, Hannah?" Carson peered over the top of his reading glasses.

"There's a woman on the phone for you," Hannah said, "a Ms. Nevenger, and she's rather adamant about speaking with you as soon as possible."

"What does she want?" Carson asked. He couldn't think of any urgent message that he was expecting, let alone of an acquaintance by the name of Nevenger. It must be a potential client, he thought to himself.

"She wouldn't reveal it to someone as _lowly_ as me," Hannah replied with a smile and a mock curtsy. Mr. Drew just returned the smile, shaking his head. "Alright, I'll take the call in here," he set down the file he had been examining, "Thanks, Hannah."

Just before closing the door, the housekeeper added, "And after that call, I think you'd better take a break."

"Oh, maybe not just yet. I've still got—"

She raised her hand to stop his protests before they were even fully formed, "Just long enough to eat the _late_ lunch you promised me a _few_ hours ago."

"But just a little lon—"

"Carson, I'll not have you starving yourself because you're too busy in this study of yours. You've been at it all morning and for half of the afternoon!"

"Has it been that long?"

"Mmhmm," Hannah put a hand on her hip.

With a start, Mr. Drew glanced at his clock. Indeed, it was almost three. Looking back at Hannah, his face flushed slightly, "Of course. I'll be out as soon as I finish this call."

"Hmph," the somewhat-plump woman left the study to set the table for him, mumbling all the way, "Can't look up from his computer. His desk is swamped in papers. Not one break since breakfast!" Sighing, she looked back into the hallway, "…He'll need it after talking with _that_ woman."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Misty leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table, "there have been five museum robberies in the past three months. Richardson says that the investigators have reason to believe that they are all connected. And local police have yet to identify the culprits." Misty ticked each fact off on her fingers.

"So," Misty continued, "Tell me again why we think these robberies are connected?"

Nancy put down her drink, "Well, for starters, most of the stolen artifacts were relatively of the same value. Secondly, there were no visible signs of forced entry in any of the museums. Thirdly, no one can pinpoint the time that the robberies took place, even broadly."

Skeptically, Misty cut in, "So, if there's no evidence of robbery, other than the missing artifacts that are only _relatively_ of the same value, and no coinciding times, what exactly makes us so sure that the same people are involved in each incident?"

"Because," Nancy said, faltering, "how could it not be?"

"Enlighten me," Misty sat back, folding her arms.

"Okay," Nancy started, "besides the obvious fact that they all took place in local museums, if these were separate robberies, wouldn't there be evidence of forced entry in at least one of them?"

"I don't follow you," Misty's brow wrinkled, "They could each be professionally carried out, but at the same time, by different people."

"For example," Nancy said, speaking rapidly, "If someone raided The Roberts Museum and covered the cameras with cloth during the robbery, that at least would indicate that someone had been there. These…these are just as if a ghost had stolen the historical artifacts."

"Okay, I think see what you're getting at," Misty said, "You're saying that the fact that there is no visible evidence is the evidence."

"Exactly! It suggests that the same person—"

"—or persons," Misty reminded.

"Or persons," Nancy repeated, "is or are involved because the same or similar methods were used, even if we don't know what those methods are."

"Soo," Misty drug out the word, "What's our first move?"

"Jeremy Holland is one of the custodians for the Museum of Mayan Treasures," Nancy began. Shifting through information about the man, she read out what was before her, "and he was the first person to notice the missing artifacts in the last robbery."

"Right," Misty said, "which took place two days ago, the day before we arrived. Where does he live?"

"It says here tha—" Nancy's phone rang, ending her thought. The vibration against the wood of the table made both girls startle somewhat.

"Hello?" Nancy answered, "…Of course, Dad, what do you need?" While listening to the conversation with mild interest, Misty peered at the file, reading what she could upside down. Nancy continued, "...A personal interview? What did you say the name was?" She motioned to Misty for a pen and paper from her purse, which was sitting in the booth across from Nancy. "Carol Nevenger, can you spell the last name one more time?...Okay, got it…And the address?...Couldn't it wait?...Alright, we'll get right on it. We'll call to let you know how it goes...Love you too, Dad, bye.

"Dad wants us check out this woman for him. She's a potential client, and apparently a very impatient one. She's demanding a personal interview, and she's willing to see us in Dad's place," Nancy explained.

Misty sighed, "She sounds stuck up."

"Misty!" Nancy scolded, doing her best to hide her smile.

"What about Holland, though?" Misty answered indignantly, "The longer we wait to interview him, the less he's likely to remember, plus I don't want to have to put up with him after the police bring him in for a more thorough talk. He'll resent us even more."

Nancy cocked her head to the side, "What makes you think he'll clam up? How do you know he won't be a chatterbox and more than willing to get his fifteen minutes of fame in?"

"You," Misty said, pointing her finger at Nancy, "are playing the Devil's Advocate." She stood up, untying her jacket, and slipped it around her shoulders. Heading for the door, she smiled, saying, "But you mentioned that he had no friends at work, lived alone, and had no nearby neighbors."

Nancy sighed, shaking her head, and as she stepped outside, she glanced down the street, taking in the view and shielding her eyes from sun. Turning toward Misty and stepping into the shade, she dug for her keys.

"If we finish with the Nevenger interview in time, we can still see Holland tonight," Nancy prodded her sister.

Misty shrugged, kicking a pebble off the sidewalk and into the parking space in front of her. Suddenly a mischievous gleam brought her green eyes to life, and a slow grin sparked a churning in Nancy's stomach. A mock groan slid from Nancy's throat, and Misty turned away, laughing lightly behind the back of her hand.

"Why do we have to see Nevenger?" Misty asked, slyly.

Nancy looked skeptically at her, "Because I promised Dad we would. Why _wouldn't_ we?"

"_We_ don't have to," Misty said again, "_I_ didn't promise. _We_ can be in two places at once."

"Are you suggesting that _we_ split up?" Nancy smiled, catching on.

Misty held out her hand for the keys. "Let me drive up to talk with Holland and you can deal with the 'snob'," Misty winked, stepping off the curb.

Nancy smiled. She handed Misty the keys and pulled out her phone to call a cab.

* * *

"Hey, Johnny, put that back, okay," sixteen-year-old Daryl said nervously glancing toward the cashier of the gas station, "I'm not kidding."  
"Lighten up, kiddo," the older blonde smiled threateningly, "It's just a bag of chips."

Gil placed a warning hand against Daryl's chest, stepped past him, and whipped out a comb, running it dramatically through his dark, greasy hair, "Yeah, Daryl, it's just a bag of Doritos. I thought your brother said you were cool."

Daryl puffed out his chest, jerked down on his leather jacket, and glared at his friends, "I _am_ cool." He hesitated before continuing, his eyes shifting back toward the counter again, "I just don't see why we have to take so much." A short and stocky guy with dark brown hair stuffed chocolate doughnuts into his jacket by the package.

"Brandon, here, has a mighty large sweet tooth," Gil patted the stout man's cheek, laughing softly.

"Hey, kiddo," Johnny raised his eyebrows, his smile gone, "Why don't you take something, prove to us that you're worth our time."

"What do you mean?" Daryl shuffled his feet nervously. He huffed, trying to cover his unease, "Of course I'm worth your time. Why should I have to prove myself to you guys? I don't need to do anything!"

"Just do it," the older boy said, staring hard at him now.

"Take your pick, _kiddo_," Gil snickered, taking a bag of peanuts and tossing it at him.

"Yeah," Daryl said, sounding tougher than he felt, "Fine then, I will, but I don't want anything stupid, okay? So, just give me a sec to look around a bit. I'll find something on my own." He walked off, scanning the aisles.

Brandon leaned in toward Gil and crossed his arms. In a deep rumbling voice, he asked, "You think he's going to try to pull a fast one?"

Gil laughed softly, his own arms crossed as well, "I hope so. I'd love to see Johnny's reaction. Then maybe we can ditch him for good."

"Yeah," Brandon replied, vaguely motioning in the direction Daryl had gone, "We won't have to babysit Tyson's kid brother anymore. I don't even know why we do now."

"Cause," Gil's glance flickered over to Johnny, "Johnny thought it'd be fun to toy around with him a little. You know, make him wait on us hand and foot. Up until a few months ago, he hadn't caused us any problems at all. Lately, though, he's been all jittery and uncool."

"Yeah," Brandon echoed, "Totally uncool, and I don't want to be uncool by hanging out with a looser. Look, here he comes." Brandon nodded his head toward Daryl's approaching figure.

"Settle on something?" Gil asked smugly.

"Finally," Brandon muttered, casually browsing a row of candy bars, grabbing a few Snickers and a Payday or two as well.

"Yeah, what of it?" Daryl shot back, "If I'm the one taking it, it should at least be something I want."

"Sure, kiddo," Johnny approached him, "Now let's see it."

"It's hidden away," Daryl said, "I positioned it just right. I don't want to be getting caught."

Brandon and Gil exchanged glances, smiles slowly spreading across their smug faces. They came in closer to Daryl, each taking one of Johnny's sides. "Where, kid?" Johnny said, pronouncing each word with precision and pausing briefly in between. Daryl saw a gleam in Johnny's eyes that made him seem even more dangerous than before, if that was possible.

"I don't have to show anybody," Daryl defended himself, "Just trust me. It's there."

Suddenly Gil launched himself toward Daryl, aiming to feel all of his pockets and pad down his back and legs. "Hey, man," Daryl jumped back, "Cut it out!"

"You won't find anything on him, Johnny," Brandon grumbled, "It's no use trying. He's just a pathetic excuse for a kid brother trying to live up to Tyson and he always will be."

"You don't know anything about me!" Daryl was livid, "So just you keep your mouth shut!"

Gil put up his fists, "You wanna go, kid?"

"Cool it," Johnny held up a hand, and Gil backed off, "Now, _Daryl_, I'm going to ask you one more time…where?"

"I said I got something," Daryl huffed, "end of story!"

Johnny shook his head, "I don't like being lied to, kiddo."

Daryl couldn't pretend anymore. "Look, man," he threw his arms out, almost hitting one of his hands on a rack of gummy worms, "why do we have to steal this junk anyway? This is stupid."

"Can you believe it?!" Gil grinned widely, looking down at Brandon, "He _is_ trying to squirm out of it."

Johnny pulled out a revolver that had been tucked into his belt underneath his jacket, flipping out the clip to show that it was loaded and then flipping it back into place. Gil and Brandon turned around, standing side by side, to face the counter and block the cashier's view while Johnny advanced toward the boy.

"Hey, man," Daryl's eyes widened, staring at the shiny metallic object, and taking a few, cautious steps backward, "Now, just cool it, okay? There's no need for that."

Johnny cocked the pistol, a cruel smile set comfortably on his lips and a cold gleam formed in his eyes. Daryl had backed completely against the rear wall, which was where the bottled sodas were found in the cooled aisles. Johnny took one more step toward Daryl, and then he pushed the side of the gun into Daryl's chest.

"Take the money," he whispered in an amused tone.

"What?" Daryl breathed a small sigh of relief, not sure whether to believe his ears or not.

"I said," Johnny whispered even lower, "Take…the money."

"You're serious?" Daryl asked, shifting his gaze over to what he could see of the counter through Gil and Brandon and then back to the face looming before him.

"You said nothing here was worth your time, so take something that is," Johnny walked backwards a few steps, leaving the gun in Daryl's hand, pressed against his chest. "Cash," he smiled broadly.

Daryl looked down at the gun in his hand, quickly stuffing it inside his jacket as a woman walked by with her four or five-year-old son in hand, the only other customers in the store. As soon as she was out of sight, he slowly pulled the weapon back out, staring at it.

"Okay," he whispered to himself. The second time he looked up at Johnny, speaking loud enough for him to hear, "Okay." He spoke louder each time he said it, "Okay, okay, I'll do it." He walked up to Johnny and the turned backs of the others. "Out of my way, boys," he laughed, pushing them aside. Johnny smiled as he followed the kid. He held up a hand to silence Gil before he grumbled about being pushed out of the way. While he glared at Daryl's back, following Johnny, Brandon smiled at the thought of Daryl robbing the convenient store and laughed quietly, walking beside Gil.

Just before Daryl reached the end of the aisle, Gil stopped, "Wait!" The others turned to him expectantly, and slightly annoyed, "You need a bag for the money."

"Dimwit," Daryl snarled, "the cashier's got bags up front."

Just as Gil opened his mouth to fire a response, Johnny smiled and said sarcastically, "Would you prefer plastic or brown paper bags?" The group turned back around and approached the counter.

"What can I do for you boys?" the owner of the small store asked. His hair was gray and balding in the front, but he looked like he was in good shape. His wire-framed glasses were round and he wore a green apron over his plaid, flannel shirt. The sleeves of the red shirt were rolled up at the cuffs to his elbows.

Noting that the woman and the boy were by the door, their backs turned, Daryl pulled out the pistol and aimed it right at the man's face, "We want your money."


	6. Chapter 5

**New chapter! Yay! Sassy and I are working HARD (and having SO much fun at it!) to get these chapters out. Hopefully, we'll have the next chapter written and posted soon. Please let us know what you think and what predictions you have!**

**Sassy and I are sorry that the last chapter took so long, but we're off for summer and ready to get the ball rolling on this story. And as always reviews are appreciated! =)**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Frank glanced down at the dashboard when he heard the ding that told him he was low on fuel. Sighing he spoke into his phone, "Hey, Joe, I've got to go. I'll meet you at the bottom of the mountain."

"Okay, but don't take too long," he heard his brother say, "Chet and I bought cold stuff too."

"Cold stuff?" Frank asked, "Joe, I thought you were just going to replace what we lost in the storm?"

"Yeah, well," the younger boy replied, "we bought some extra stuff with it."

"As long as it isn't heavy," Frank sighed, "we're still on a camping trip, and I don't want to be luging coolers around that will only slow us down."

"Chill out, bro," Joe laughed, "it was just a few things. Look, I'll see you in half an hour and you can see for yourself."

"Might be more like forty-five minutes," Frank said, "I've got to stop for gas, and I don't exactly plan on flying down steep rocky mountain roads that I am unfamiliar with."

Frank could almost hear Joe rolling his eyes, "Whatever big brother, but if you're going to be that long, Chet and I are going to go ahead and eat lunch here."

"Okay," Frank pushed down his annoyance, "Then I'll take a little longer and grab a snack myself. Look, I really need to get off here."

"Alright, see ya."

Frank just mumbled as he ended the call and tossed his phone into the passenger seat, concentrating on the curvy roads. Glancing down at the gas meter, he couldn't help but wonder if he would end up walking to the nearest station.

Early that morning the boys had driven to the bottom of the mountain to replenish their food supply and replace the tarp and pans that had washed away in the storm, but Joe had left his bag of clothes at the campsite. Chet had wanted to stay in town and Frank, not trusting his brother to drive safely back up the mountain without getting lost or distracted, had volunteered to go back and get the bag.

There hadn't been a building in sight for miles, and he was running on fumes. Frank mentally kicked himself for forgetting to check the tank before heading back up the mountain. The white, rented minivan sputtered and died just as Frank was pulling into a small gas station about a quarter of the way down the hill.

"Thank goodness," Frank mumbled, thrusting the door open as he came to a final stop. He walked around to the pump he'd managed to steer himself to and began filling the gas tank. The boys hadn't needed the gas-guzzling thing, but it was the only vehicle left when they arrived at the rental agency as far out as the taxi would take them.

Thus far, the boys had been leaving the minivan in the parking lots of hiking stores at the foot of the mountains, climbing up different trails, camping out in various spots, and returning on foot. At the request of Chet, they had decided to take a day away from climbing and drive to the top for this particular mountaintop. Frank was surprised that he had actually enjoyed spending more time at the top of the mountain, reveling in the view…at least until the storm had hit.

The click of the nozzle pulled Frank out of his thoughts. While he waited for his receipt, he debated on whether he should grab a snack inside or just wait until he reached Chet and Joe. He smiled at the thought of them waiting and watching him while he ate his lunch after they had gone ahead without him. He normally wasn't so mean, but Joe deserved a little payback and it was a mild punishment. He laughed softly as he realized that they'd both probably just eat a second lunch.

Suddenly, the pounding of footsteps and shrill hysterical laughter caught Frank's attention. A gunshot sent an all too familiar message to his instincts, setting his senses on full alert. His body went rigid with tension, adrenalin pumping through his veins by the second. He saw four boys run out of the store. Trouble never failed to taunt him it seemed, but he quickly pushed that thought aside as an older man ran out after them yelling,  
"Stop them! Someone stop them! They've robbed me!"

Before Frank could react, he heard an engine start up and rocks flying as the tires of a car spun on the gravel before hitting the pavement of the road that led down the mountain. Briefly, Frank glanced at the man wielding an old shotgun, and noted that he didn't appear to be injured.

"They took all of the money from the store!" the man added, his face red from anger. With a look of rage and disgust, he shook his gun in the direction that the kids had gone.

"Call the police!" Frank jumped into the minivan, starting it and buckling in one swift movement, "I'm going after them!"

* * *

Nancy showed the taxi driver the slip of paper that she had used to write Nevenger's address on and asked him how far away the woman lived. The man whom she sat behind happily replied and quickly launched into a monologue that required very little response on Nancy's part. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard and checked it with the time on her own wrist. Noticing that she had forgotten to set her watch back, she expertly unclasped the band and adjusted the hour hand. Without looking down, she returned the watch to her wrist and gazed out her window for the remainder of the ride. Thoughts of the museum thefts filled her mind, blocking out the overeager sounds of the lonely cab driver's voice.

"Here we are, Miss," the man turned around to face his passenger twenty minutes later, "Miss?"

"Hmm?" Nancy turned to the driver,

"This is the house, Miss," he pointed to the little yellow house to their right.

Nancy blushed at being caught in her own thoughts, "Oh, I'm sorry. I must have gotten distracted by the scenery." The truth was she hadn't noticed that they'd stopped at all. She quickly stepped out of the cab and paid the fare, waving in return as he drove away in search of another call.

Turning away from the street, Nancy faced the house. She glanced down at the note in her hand, and then looked back at the address on the black mailbox. Beside that, the white picket fence stopped abruptly at the end of the sidewalk. Nancy couldn't help but pause to look over the home before she walked down the path to the white wooden porch. She noticed the classic red roses that framed the walkway, the white shudders that perfectly matched the white fence and porch, and the dark blue, velvety curtains that covered the windows. With a practiced eye, she noted that the yard was barren of any toys and traces of small children or pets, the grass was a luscious green and evenly cut, and that the small garden to right of the porch steps was very well taken care of. Nancy saw the old brown porch swing that looked more than slightly worn. Faintly, she wondered why the swing wasn't white and as pristine as everything else seemed to be. Pushing the thought aside, Nancy griped the strap of her purse and rang the doorbell.

* * *

Misty's gaze flickered briefly back to the road for the tenth time to make sure she was still in her lane before she gazed back down at the atlas haphazardly spread across the wheel. Thankfully, she'd hit a straight stretch of road, but she knew it wouldn't last long and she didn't exactly have room to pull over anytime soon. With one finger she traced a small blue line on her map, attempting to find her current location.

"Dang it!" Misty hissed through the pencil held between her teeth. Glancing in her rearview mirror, she'd seen a vehicle quickly coming up behind her. "Klingon," she muttered in distaste as the Mercedes Benz sidled comfortably up to her back bumper. Misty rolled her eyes thinking of multiple situations in which mobsters had jammed their sleek vehicles into the back of Nancy's convertible in the dead of night, jolting them both forward.

With both hands on the wheel, Misty concentrated fully on the road ahead. She didn't allow the E-Guard behind her to force her to speed up, as many times she and Nancy had done before in order to keep from being run over. Glancing in her mirrors every few seconds, she tapped lightly against her brakes in the hopes that the car would back off. To her relief, it did. Though the respite wasn't for long, which frustrated Misty even more. Soon, the driver was hugging the back of her car once again.

"If only you knew how dangerous riding someone's bumper actually is," Misty mumbled as the black car shifted into the opposite lane, pulling ahead of her despite the sharp curve they were in.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Misty yelled into the empty space of her car. In a burst of speed, the black vehicle raced ahead of her and disappeared into the distance, almost as if to make a statement. "Now there's no reason to be nasty about it!"

Instinctively, Misty's eyes flickered to the license plate, which she couldn't help but notice was both local and custom made, reading JEWEL. Aggravated, she fumed under her breath, "Just because you live here doesn't mean you should be that reckless on roads as dangerous as this, no matter how well you know them. It doesn't mean you should drive at ninety miles per hour around sharp curves. And it doesn't give you the right to drive like a maniac!"

Sighing, Misty looked back to the atlas spread across her wheel. With a grunt, she tossed the book of maps into the passenger seat. It was no use, there were no roads for her to choose from, and if she had gone the wrong way, there were no places for her to turn around either. She was stuck on this road until she reached the end of it.

Leaning into another curve, Misty wished that her stomach would stop flipping over, rising into her throat, but the further she drove the sharper, and more acute the curves seemed to be just as the road became steeper and slimmer. The guardrails that were only sometimes on her right were little comfort, and there hadn't been a shoulder on either side of the road for miles.

Glancing to her right, Misty shuddered at the sight of the sheer drop-off that led straight down for hundreds of miles. Her gaze returned to the road ahead, which curved to the left in what looked like nearly a thirty-degree angle. A golden warning sign shaped like a diamond recommended that drivers take the curve at fifteen miles per hour, but Misty wasn't sure she even liked that idea. But just as Misty began to apply the brakes, heading into the curve, a tan colored Cadillac Seville swerved into her lane, forcing her off the road!


End file.
